


Ladywolfe

by ser_atlantisite



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cursed to be always together but forever apart, Established Relationship, Mutual Pining, Other, and doing whatever you can to save each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-01-25 07:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ser_atlantisite/pseuds/ser_atlantisite
Summary: Bartholomew 'Mick' 'the Mouse' Mercury is the first man to escape the dungeons of Bishop Kanagawa. Disgraced knight captain Juno Steel needs that skill, luck, whatever it is, if he ever wants to be with his husband again. Mick may be fond of this husband, this Peter but when he agreed to help he never imagined this.Featuring magic, a kindly wolf, pining, and as always Rita!
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 54
Kudos: 123





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> D'you ever look at something and think "but it needs mORE magic" ? that's this au. and also the kanagawas have gone full medici as they were always meant to
> 
> all my love to marbledopalescence for the beta

A ratty man in scrounged together clothes strolled up to the tavern with a grin a mile wide, because he was here to celebrate. Admittedly, in the middle of the day there weren’t that many patrons—besides the barkeep, three scattered folk, and one full table all huddled together. But he was in too good a mood to wait.

“Garso’,” he cheered “a Ring of Saturn, if you please, it’s a special occasion.”

“I don’t do mixed drinks.”

“O-oh. Well then, a glass of your finest. And,” he added loudly, facing the rest of the room, “a round for anyone who will celebrate with me!”

One figure at a table full of hooded shapes turned towards him. “That’s real generous of ya, pal,” they drawled.

“Well that’s just the kinda sophisticated guy I am,” he grinned, snaggle toothed smile the brightest thing in the room. “Name’s Mick. Mick Mercury. You should remember that.”

The figure inclined their head. “I just might. What’re we celebratin’?”

The man known as Mick sauntered up to their table and thumped down at the empty seat next to them and leaned in as if to share a secret. Though, his voice was still loud enough to project to the whole room when he said “We’re celebrating my escape from Castle Deimos’ dungeons!”

“Really now? But no one’s ever done that before.”

“Until me,” he said, leaning in. His new friend matched the distance. “The first person to do it in all of history, the man who pulled the greatest escape since the Emerald Osprey, is here in your very presence and willing to share the tale.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need the full story, see?” Sharp teeth flashed, scarred lips pulling into a Cheshire’s rictus. “After all, we just got your confession.”

Iron arms clamped around Mick’s chest. Every cloaked figure at the table stood as one, robes falling open to reveal the armour and uniforms _of the Kanagawa guard_, gold plated full helms obscuring anything of the souls beneath. Their scarred leader leaned back in her chair, cackling. She pulled a dagger, jagged and chipped into a wicked edge, and played with it.

“Well now, that was almost too easy.” She levelled the dagger at him. “You keep being this co-operative, and I’ll bring you back in as many pieces as I found you, see?”

Mick swallowed. “Wha-what? Confessed no I – I’m not even sure what I was saying –” he tried to squirm in the knights grip “– who said anything about an escape? I sure didn’t—”

“How dumb do you think—”

An arrow threaded through the air and right between the narrow slits of the face guard of a knight’s helmet. Their leader gaped at the nigh impossible feat for half a second before ducking as fire erupted out of the helmet. The knight roared, sticky black smoke pouring from every seam in their armour. Blue flames gave a final spurt and the knight collapsed, armour scattering across the floor and trailing a thick grey ash with it. Mick stared on in horror. The squad captain sneered, kicking ash off their foot. The other knights hadn’t so much as flinched as their comrade died.

“Borrowing some of Cecil’s toys, Piranha Face? Whose soul did you sell for this squadron”

“_Steel!_” the captain purred, a vicious light taking her eyes. “Who cares about these. When I bring you in, they’ll make me the king of my own damn island!” She snapped her fingers, green sparks dancing along her glove. “Forget this mouse, find me Steel.”

A lot of things happened at once.

The knight dropped Mick. Other patrons in the bar screamed. Two more arrows flew, setting two more knights aflame in their suits. The captain flipped the bar table over, muscles straining against the heavy oak. The voice of this _Steel_ character shouted for Mick to run. Somewhere distantly, a bird cried.

So, Mick ran.

* * *

Past the edge of the trees surrounding the town and the tavern, Mick found a horse. It hadn’t even been tied up, just left fully saddled and grazing on its own. And it refused to go with him. He tried scaring it, bribing it, climbing it, pulling at the bridle. All it did was sniff indignantly at him and he swore it even rolled its eyes.

He was arguing now, with the horse, about the dangers he left behind and how vital it was that they leave, now, for both their safeties.

A large bird had flown up while he made a particularly _ellie-quaint_ point about fabled fields of golden oats he had heard about once upon a time, and alighted on the horse’s saddle horn. The horse was ignoring him now, but the bird studied him carefully.

“Heyyy there Mister Bird,” Mick cooed, “think you can help me out here? She’s stopped listening to me.”

“You really expecting an answer there, Mercury?”

Mick squinted at the bird.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he screamed.

His bird friend startled and took off again. The hand turned him around and standing there—

“Jay-jay!”

Mick tackled his oldest, dearest, bestest friend in a hug. And there, the familiar feeling of Juno Steel taking a moment to relax into the hold and hug him back.

“Man Jay-Jay, I haven’t seen you in years! One, at least. And nobody knew where you went, you just disappeared – you and Sasha – and everyone was convinced you were dead but if I know anything it’s that you two are the most badass, capable people ever and I told everyone that there’s no way anything took you down, and I kept saying it! Even when they threw me in that cell!” Juno tensed up again at that and Mick realized he should change topics. He leaned back enough to take in his friend. The long-lost captain of the Kanagawa’s guard looked good for his year long absence, denser muscle and longer hair, clothes a patchwork of stories Mick couldn’t wait to hear about.

Juno frowned. “Are you crying?”

“Yeah! I missed you bud!”

“…oh.” Juno looked flustered. “Mick I-I’m sorry I didn’t—"

“No it’s ok! I told you, I knew you were alright. Not my fault no one else believed me.” He ruffled Juno’s hair and laughed as he was swatted away. “Hey, was that you? In the bar?”

“Who else would save your ass. You didn’t see me?”

“Naw man I just ran.” He threw his arm around Juno’s shoulders. “But you! You swoop in out of nowhere after a year, lone wandering hero, looking for people to save, and you save me! You fought a whole army of, of people who spit fire! You fought dragon people for me Jay!”

“Not dragons, Mick. Demons. Little holy oil on your arrows takes them right out. About the only thing that will.”

“Ha. Right. Good one Jay, _‘demons’_.”

“Not joking Mercury.”

He stared at the lady, but Juno’s face was as serious as ever. “Those—so you’re saying…”

“Cecil Kanagawa upgraded from human soldiers. Among other tricks he traded in for.”

Mick continued to stare at his friend. His hands shook where he held onto the guardsman. “Demons?? They're sending _demons_ after me? No no no no - no one said anything about demons. Oh man am I cursed? Can they find me anywhere I go? I swear I didn’t mean to take any of this gold from demons I just saw it next to that skeleton, and I figured no one would even miss it but I didn't know it belonged to demons I swear—”

“Mick!” Juno grabbed him by the shoulders. He steered Mick to sit on a rock and knelt, hands on his face so all he could see was Juno. “Breathe buddy. No one cares about the gold, trust me.”

“But they were after me!” he sobbed.

Juno went to say something, then stopped, brow furrowed. “They were, weren’t they. The Kanagawas sent an entire squadron after you.”

“I know!”

“But they only have so many to play with. So, they must really want you back. SO…it was you.” Juno gaped at him, eyes wide. “You actually escaped the most heavily fortified castle in history.”

“But the demon gold—"

“It may be a lot to you but it’s pocket change to the Kanagawas, Mick. Cecil spends that much on mascara each morning.” Juno stood and went over to the fancy horse, who had been watching the two of them the entire time. He dug through the saddle bags until he found a worn leather-bound journal. He pulled a pencil out of the string holding it closed and opened the book, pencil in his teeth, flipping frantically through the pages. He slowed, hovering over one in particular. Then he turned back to Mick.

“Did you really break out of Castle Deimos, Mick?”

“I didn’t mean too. I had just been down there so long and door hinge was real rusty and then I took a wrong turn and I was in the canal and _then_ I was in this tunnel and there was a skeleton but I could see outside and—"

Juno laughed – a wrung out, ‘can’t believe this is my life’ kind of laugh. “Do you think you could find your way back in?”

“_Back_ into that dungeon? Jay-jay—”

“Not you, I’m not asking you to. I don’t think. But could you describe it to someone else?”

“But what about the demons? They have my scent now!”

Juno rubbed at his temple and took a deep breath. “You saw me kill those ones at the bar, right? I can help you escape them, but you have to do a favour for my husband.”

“Deal.”

“You. You don't even know what he's going to ask.”

Mick Mercury shrugged, looking up at his childhood best friend, eyes wide and earnest. “Whatever you need, Jay-jay.” He frowned. “But, you’ll, you’ll handle the demons right?”

Juno laughed one of his rare, genuine, breathy laughs. “Yeah, bud. We’ll keep you safe.” His smile turned smug. “I’ll even forgive you trying to steal my horse.”

Mick blanched. “Well – I – I mean I didn’t know it was _your_ horse.”

Juno snorted. He started packing up his book and his bow and arrows into the saddle. “Come one, we should really be farther from town. Piranha is out of backup now, but wont be for much longer.”

“Fine by me.” Mick stood with a groan, wiping moss of his pants. “Hey! When d’you get hitched?”

Juno winced. “Three years ago?”

_“What?!”_

“We had to keep it quiet Mick. It was… complicated.”

“But I’m your best friend! You couldn’t trust me to keep it a secret??”

Juno just stared at him.

“… yeah, alright.”

The former Captain finished adjusting the saddle bags and ran a comforting hand over the horse’s nose. “Sorry Small Fry,” he murmured, “been a while since you’ve had to carry two.” The horse nuzzled him in reply.

Juno climbed up, then waited patiently as Mick clambered behind him with far less practice and grace. It was difficult to feel ‘secure’ on the back of a large beast, but Juno deemed him seated enough to head out. Trees passed them by with the soft sigh of leaves, as trees are wont to do. The friends quietly caught up over the time they had missed, Mick about the changes to their city, Juno about his time on the road, though he was far less forthcoming about it.

The lady sighed. “Are you sure you want to know this stuff, Mercury?”

“Hell, if Bishop Kanagawa is using demons, maybe I don’t.” Juno Steel could talk for hours but sharing? Sharing never came easy to him. Mick could give him an out. Not that he was overly eager to hear about the monsters that had been lurking in the shadows of his own home _while he was in it_.

“I can work with that.” Juno wrung the reins in his hands. “Hey, uhh, Mick? Thanks. For this.”

“I told you bud. Whatever you need.”

The sun crept from zenith to horizon as they travelled, sinking into the canopy of leaves and reappearing beneath the boughs. When Mick commented on the time, Juno pulled his heavily guarded glove back on and whistled. He held his arm out, a bit of meat pinched in his fingers. Waiting.

It was five minutes before a bird called back, and sweeping down from the leaves and onto Juno’s arm.

“There you are,” he said, voice gentle. The bird ignored him for the treat.

“Oh!” Mick recognized the bird from before. A large thing, sleek head, hooded eyes and a wicked beak. Black feathers shimmered with gold and green, and the tail feathers draped Juno’s arm like a train. “I remember you. That’s one good looking bird, Jay.”

The lady barked out a laugh. “Oh my god don’t let him hear that. He’s vain enough as is.” Juno pulled out a leather cord and slipped it around its foot. The hawk chirped at him. “None of that. It’s late, you need to stay close now.”

“Jay-jay, does it actually… understand us?”

A weight settled behind Juno’s eyes. “No. No he doesn’t.” He sighed, pulling it close and stroking its head. The bird leaned into it. Then nipped at his finger. “Bastard,” he breathed. He let the hawk take off again. “Come on, we can camp here for the night.”

“I thought we were going to meet this husband of yours.”

“He’ll… find us.” Juno unclipped a roll of blankets and slapped them into Mick’s arms. “You are going to sleep. Now.”

“What? But I’m not even tired.”

“Peter uh… he works at night. Trust me you’re going to need the sleep.”

* * *

_Hey, do you remember my friend Mick? I… never really got the chance to introduce you two. Great guy. The best. Full of taller tales than DiMaggios menagerie, but this one he’s got for you is on the level. And exactly what you need._


	2. the husband

Juno had said not to wait up for him. He’d set up a fire, tossed a bunch of things in a small pot, and wandered off into the woods as the sun set. He’d told Mick to take a nap in that lovingly condescending tone he had, but hadn’t even set up a bed for himself.

So, Juno Steel was still terrible at getting sleep. Some things never changed. But Mick, Mick was alone in a strange wood, with a bag of gold stolen from someone who had a legion of monsters on his side and no matter what Juno said he could _feel_ something watching him whenever he touched the purse and really, how far should Juno have gotten on foot? His stuff was still there. And his bow. And was that a twisted tree or a bear?

Mick decided to look for Juno.

And then he became rather lost.

Well it was hardly his fault; if the snow had made it through the trees, he could have seen his footprints. Or, maybe, if it was lighter out, everything wouldn’t look so uselessly, repetitively grey. He tried looking at the bushes for broken twigs, clues of where other people had gone, but it turned out a lot of twigs were broken out in the wild.

“Hello?” he yelled into the twilight. “Jay-jay! Uh… Jay-jay’s husband?” He turned a full circle. “Small fry?” Howling wind was his only response. _"...Jay's bird?"_

Something cracked behind him. If he had to guess, that something cracked under the foot of that figure who’d appeared suddenly. It was not Juno, sadly. They gestured at him with an axe.

"What’you doing out here, boy?"

"Looking for my friend. Why, what are you doing out here?"

That was the wrong question. The stranger’s eyes blazed with fury and they swung for Mick’s neck. He leapt back with a cry. He stumbled and hit the ground, gangly limbs propelling him away through the roots until he could gain his feet and bolt. But he could hear someone keeping laboured pace behind him.

“Oh hey sounds like Mick’s in trouble” Mick shouted, pitching his voice. “Oh yeah let’s go help him. Grab Craig and Len…kowski. And uh, our swords!” Pretty smart thinking, he thought.

And then he looked back to see if his pursuer had bought it. And his foot caught something, and he hit the ground. Much harder this time. His senses came back to him like molasses through a sieve, and he knew the woodsman was on him before he could do more than roll over.

Mick gasped in air. “Look, I don’t—” the woodsman raised their axe, “I didn’t see anything, I – I -I don’t even know where I am!”

“You ain’t—"

A loud, low growl stopped them both. Silver-blue eyes shone out from the brush, belonging to the largest wolf Mick had ever seen. It crept forward, teeth bared, mottled pelt drawing the growing shadows around it. Both men froze, watching it. The woodsman stepped back ever so slowly, putting Mick between him and the beast.

The wolf however, stepped right over him, wrath still focused at the man wielding the axe. Fear entered his eyes.

“If you wish to remain un-mauled,” a voice said, drifting from the darkness, “I’d drop the weapon first. He is not a fan of them.”

The woodsman’s eyes bulged, trying to look around with moving. Gingerly he set the axe on the ground. True to the voice’s word, the wolf’s growling stopped, though it was still crouched low over Mick’s prone self.

“I suggest you run, now.”

The man spun and ran. The wolf lunged into the space he’d occupied, snapping at his heels, barking at his retreating form. When he’d gone completely, it howled a warning to the night sky.

Mick caught a glimpse of another figure standing at the edge of this little ravine he’d fallen into, ethereal in the growing moonlight. And then the wolf blocked his view, stepping on Mick’s chest again. This time to sniff at him, ignoring the fact it was far too large for him to breathe properly. It began licking his face.

“Wha— hey!” Mick’s own protests were cut off by laughter. The damn wolf’s tongue was tickling him. Trying to push it off him did nothing. “Cut it out!”

A hand full of meat dangled into Mick’s limited, fur-filled vision. The wolf perked up, sniffing at it. The meat was tossed aside, and the wolf leapt after it, tearing fire across of Mick’s chest. The figure – who, Mick would admit, was the prettiest man he’d ever seen – leaned into his view, glasses and grey robe glimmering in the darkness.

“Oh silly thing, forgets his own claws. Though I’ve... never seen him be this _friendly,_ I will admit. Let’s get you patched up, shall we?”

This new stranger offered a hand. Mick half reached for it, but hesitated.

“What will this cost me?”

“Beg pardon?”

Mick crossed his arms stubbornly _(still prone on the ground)_. “Handsome stranger just _happens_ to appear in the forest with his wolf companion?” he asked. Though, that was the moment the wolf scented something else and went loping off. But Mick continued, undeterred. “I’ve fought demons before pal, I think I can recognize a Fae when I meet one.”

The fairy blinked. He laughed, warmly, behind his hand. “I am thoroughly flattered, sir, but you should know, I am married.”

“Oh!” Mick sat up – forgetting the fresh claw marks on his chest. When he could breathe again, he asked “Are you Jay’s husband?”

“Who?”

“Juno!”

That earned a far more shocked look.

* * *

“Where’s Jay?”

Juno’s still-possibly-a-fairy husband – Peter, he’d said – packed away the medical supplies. “Oh he’s about. Letting his wild side loose.”

“And your wolf friend?”

“Rather much the same, I suppose. Doing whatever a wolf without a pack does.”

Mick tried to look casual, picking at a thread on his pants. “You, ah, got a connection to this wolf?”

“He is not my _familiar_, if that’s what you are asking,” Peter chuckled. “I just try to keep him out of trouble. Keep him from hurting anyone…”

He returned to the fireside holding a book – the journal Juno had been scribbling in. His fingers traced delicately over the pages, pencil tucked behind his ear. The fire was plenty warm, but he kept pulling his cloak tighter around him. The same cloak, Mick realized, that Juno had been wearing that day.

Peter went very still, looking from book to Mick with a sharp gleam in his eyes.

“You escaped from Castle Deimos?”

Mick awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “Well – I mean really I just – you know they really should have kept the place better – everyone’s making such a fuss but I didn’t, I mean –"

Peter sat forward in his seat. “Mister Mercury, I make it my business to know every nook and crack of the most heavily fortified strongholds in this continent, and I have never found a way into Deimos. I would very much like to know how you slipped through it’s security.”

“You and Jay-jay both,” Mick frowned. “He used to run that place – why can’t you just use the front gate?”

The maybe-fairy glanced down at the book again. He sighed. “Because I… we had a falling out with the Kanagawas, and we are no longer welcome within their walls. But, if I can get back there and find where Bishop Cecil keeps his demonic relics I—” he cut himself off, folding a smile over his features. “Then, Juno’s problems with them will be solved.”

He waited for a response, holding steady as Mick scrutinized him.

Finally, Mick asked “Have we met before?”

Peter started. “I, suppose?”

“Juno never left Deimos or the town, so you’d have to have come to him I guess. Right?”

“Correct. I... traveled quite a bit, and I regret that I could never persuade him to come with me, but—”

“What d’you do?”

“Merchant.” He smiled, charming, practiced.

“Of what? Oh did you sell any of those ugly fruit things over in Elysium? Heard there was good money in that.”

He chuckled. “No. Specialty items.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It kept me entertained enough.”

“So you would just leave Jay?”

Peter flinched. “It… worked for us. He,” he swallowed, “he had finally agreed to come with me…”

“When you both disappeared?”

Peter studied Mick’s face. “…yes.”

“What happened to Sasha?”

“She… went her own separate way. You’d best ask Juno about her, to be honest.” Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Mick wondered if it was the same animal. Peter however became very still, staring into the forest after it. “Mister Mercury, please, I don’t have the time for dallying. I need to know about your route past Deimos’ defenses. Juno asked you to tell me, yes?”

“I mean yeah but,” Mick scratched his chin. “I’m not sure anyone can go _back _that way. I fell down a pretty deep hole.”

A smile twitched on the other man’s face. “I believe I am up the challenge.”

Mick squinted. “…what did you say you did again?”

“The mercantile arts are very cut-throat, Mister Mercury. One has to be prepared for any challenge.”

“Sure…” he hemmed. “I bet some fairy magic would help with all that—”

“If I had command of magic of my own,” Peter sighed, “none of this would be necessary.”

“Fine, I... guess that makes sense.”

Peter began to grill him on the details of his great escape, writing everything down in the little journal. He described it forwards and backwards, broad strokes and every tiny detail he could think of. Peter snuck repetitive questions for more details between stories about Juno, about their old home, about business endeavours that went hilariously, spectacularly wrong, swapped as the embers burnt out of the fire.

Both men were reduced to tears, laughing as the fire went out completely.

“I can’t believe,” Mick managed between gasps, “Jay ever got back on a horse. I mean Small Fry seems great and all but, ya know, after that…”

“Who?” Peter asked, wiping at tears.

Mick pointed at the horse dozing a little way from them.

Peter physically recoiled. “_Small Fry??”_ he ground out. “My _Ruby_ is a pure bred, _noble steed_, seventh of _her lineage _—"

That continued for a while.

* * *

_Darling, your friend is a delight. I’m sorry I did not have a proper chance to meet him. Before, I mean. Despite his embellishments he has a remarkable memory. It is enough, I believe, to get me back within those walls. If I enter at sunset I should have enough time to properly search for it._

_Also, dear, my love, light of my life, we have **discussed** Ruby’s name before. ‘Small Fry’ is un-befitting a lady of her stature. She is not some common cart horse._

* * *

_I’m glad you like him. Feel like I should be more worried about what stories he’s telling you but I can lose it over that later. And Small Fry just suits her babe I don’t know what to tell you. You won’t remember this but I just asked her and she agrees with me._

_Mick’s passed out on my shoulder. How the hell does someone sleep on a moving horse? God he snores loud. I’d forgotten._

_Found more of those wild onions you like._

_One of us needs to fix the saddle. Padding has gone from uncomfortable to butt shredding._

_Look at you go. I wish you remembered what it felt like to fly._

_Made it past the farm boundaries as of writing this, still have a bit to go. But sun’s still out so I’ll keep pushing. I’ll get you as close to the castle as I can. Guard patrols seems thin and regular but it. Something feels wrong. I don’t have enough time to figure out what. Take tonight to scout? I’m ok with waiting as many days as this needs. I mean it.  
If I could watch your back, we wouldn’t need to do this. Please be careful. Yeah, I know look who’s talking. Do it anyways._

* * *

_Forgive me Juno it was not there I searched Deimos top to bottom I Cecil must have it with him in Phobos we barely managed to shake them but they are everywhere you are going to have to run as soon as you rise I am sorry I am so sorry Mick will_


	3. the Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is some violence in this chapter but i did my best to keep it all as vague as possible.

“Dammit, dammit _dammit!_” Juno punctuated each curse with another arrow, another falling demonic Knight and a burst of flame.

Someone had thought to change the face guards on their helmets but that wasn't so much as slowing down the greatest shot the principality of Hyperion had seen in centuries. The Knights still needed to see and that was enough of an opening for Juno.

No, the problem was the human guardsmen in between.

Some had seen their terrible, nigh invincible Knights felled - an impossible feat - and fled. But at least one human had realized Juno was not even aiming for them. And had convinced enough others that this would keep them safe. So they stayed their course. And Juno and Mick lost more and more ground.

They were using a barn for cover, having been pushed to the edge of this farmstead. If they were pushed any further, they'd be trapped in open field.

"I thought your husband said he was the best at this sneaking stuff" Mick blubbered between his hands, crouched in Juno's shadow.

"He is!"

"Stay here and watch Ruby, because I work better alone, he said, so I did! And he looked so cool when he said it too, with those fancy knives and the grappling hook and those cheekbones-"

"Mick-"

"But then the alarm bells woke me up and then we were running and well okay I fell asleep again but then you were there instead and I hadn't even-"

Strong hands grabbed the front of Mick's shirt and hauled him upright. He yelped, staring into the frantically angry eyes of his best friend.

"Was Peter okay?" Juno ground out.

"You mean before he ditched us here?"

"Mick!"

Mick watched the fear rattling Juno's edges. He thought of that same fear that had Peter wild eyed and frantic. He smiled. "C'mon Juno, that guy? Cool as a cucumber, even with all the legions of hell on our asses."

"Was he hurt?" he asked, voice cracking.

"A little scratched up but I've had worse just from buttering my toast."

"That's not a high bar, Mercury," Juno grumbled, but his frown eased. He took a steadying breath, raised his bow and dropped two more Knights with only the barest glance.

Somewhere overhead a hawk screamed in fury. Juno tensed right back up. He whipped his gaze up to the sky, eyes wide, searching the clouds.

"Dammit no no no where," he turned a full frantic circle, "where is he?"

The mortal guards screamed behind them, something about claws and feathers.

"I think I found your bird Jay," Mick said.

The glare Juno gave him could have melted stone.

They ran to the opposite corner of their shelter and there saw a trio that had been working to ambush them. The hawk cried again and swept past, a black blur of feathers faster than Mick could track. It was gone to the sky again and one guard fell to the ground, clutching his face.

His two companions drew their crossbows and aimed for that sky.

Juno shot one weapon out of their hands in a shower of splinters. Only, too late did he get the other, bolt disappearing high over head.

The hawk cried out in pain, plummeting to the ground. Juno screamed much the same. His next arrow was... Far less kind to the third guard. Alive, still, though. Clutching at his leg. The second man was forced to drag his companions out of their vantage point and Juno barely heeded the cease fire before tearing across the open ground to his bird companion. Mick hissed for him to come back, already, but was ignored as well. He could make out the tears in Juno’s eyes, a choked sob as he tore off his cloak and swaddled the hawk with it, careful of the bolt in the bird’s breast, a gentleness to his hands Mick had rarely seen.

"He’s alive," he called, voice thick, shaking. He darted back to cover, cradling the bundle to his heart.

"Wow Jay, you are real nice to your pets," Mick teased. But the words didn't reach Juno.

He stared at Ruby, with a look that had meant clever plans and bruised knuckles and older children being out classes and out witted. Captain Steel clutched his hawk closer still.

"Dammit'" he muttered, "its too close to here... But there’s nowhere else..."

"What is Jay? Talk to me bud."

"Do you remember that... haunted observatory? Just past the city limits? Sasha's there."

"What?! Oh man Jay is she a ghost-"

"No she's just. Out there. You have to take him to her." Juno held out the bundled bird, crying softly within the cloak.

"I am not leaving you here."

"Please, Mick."

"But-"

"He can’t die!"

"Neither can you!"

Juno started at his friend’s tone. But he did not argue further. He glanced down at his hawk, and then at his Mick. He nodded.

"Okay, Mercury." He swallowed. "You get on Ruby first and I'll pass him up to you."

And Mick did just that, struggling for balance as he usually did. When Juno judged him stable enough, he passed up his hawk, critiquing Micks hold. Eventually that too he accepted. He moved around to Ruby's saddle bags, drawing a long silver blade, swinging it to remind himself of the balance.

He whispered, "I'm sorry about this, Small Fry."

And the he cracked her haunches with the flat of the blade.

Mick's scream was lost to the winds. Ruby tore towards the horizon with a ferocity not enough people feared about horses. He had no hope of stopping her like this. So he held on. And he pulled the hawk tighter, shielding it from the wind. And he turned to look back at his best friend. A lone, stolid figure against the collapsing barn.

"I'll catch up, promise!" he thought he heard.

Juno turned away.

* * *

The haunted observatory had been far beyond their ability to explore as children, but it had dominated Micks stories about the wide world regardless. The sheer crags it stood upon were a prominent feature of those stories, jagged debris dominating an already rolling landscape.

But he had never mentioned how one was supposed to get up there.

He circled it now, weakening cries of his passenger spurring him to think up even wilder solutions to an impossible climb as he continued to study the cliff.

He resorted to yelling.

He was thoroughly startled when a voice yelled back.

"Whaddya need?" it called.

"A doctor! Or my friend Sasha. Maybe both."

A small head poked out a window high above. "Sasha Wire?"

"Yeah! Nice lady, kinda cranky."

"I know her!" the voice exclaimed, slapping the window frame excitedly. "I'll send down the lift for ya!"

The round little woman came with it, greeting 'Small Fry' with coos and kisses and introducing herself as Rita. She manoeuvred them onto the lift, worked the winch, and then led them up the path to the small, crumbling palace on the hill. And the dark figure blocking their way.

"Sasha!" both Mick and Rita called.

"Mick," she breathed, trying to take him in and clearly not quite believing it. "What are you..."

Mick held out the bundle, the bolt and the bird’s head poking free of the cloak.

Rita shrieked.

Sasha swore. "Rita-"

"Get your things," she said, "I'll get him ready."

Sasha nodded and took off into the ruins. Rita gently took the hawk down from Micks arms and went a different direction. Mick stared after both of them, and followed Rita.

She paused in opening a large door with her hip, eyeing the horizon. "How long to sunset, ya think," she asked him. "A minute or an hour?"

Mick floundered. "Sky is already red, isn't it?"

She squinted past him, doing the math. "We'll get you fixed up soon," she told the bird gently, stroking its head.

It trilled at her.

Beyond the door was a high vaulted room set up in blankets and furs and freshly cut flowers. Rita set the bird down, rearranging the cloak before the lit hearth. And then she shooed Mick back out the doors.

"What? Rita what are you-"

"We're giving him privacy, Mistah. It ain’t polite to be in the room while someone is changin." She closed the door and tossed him an exasperated look. Then she started. "Oop he'll probably want his glasses. I'll go grab those. You wait right here." And she bounded off back towards Ruby.

"Glasses...?" Mick wondered aloud. "Why would..." He stared at the door. A sick feeling settled in his stomach.

The sky was almost black now. Mick shoved his way back into the room, every detail of the last three days reorganizing in his mind. As the door opened he could hear them again, the hawks coos of pain. They were growing louder, stronger. And they were melting into the cries of a man, a sob and a hiss as he tried to quiet himself.

Mick gaped at the long form writhing in Juno's cloak, hand clutching at the bolt embedded in his shoulder. Brown skin glowing in the firelight like he’d never seen it under the moon. Bright, familiar eyes wild with pain, struggling to focus on him.

"Wha- Mick? Is that you?" Peter Steel asked, squinting, tears streaming. "W-what happened?"


	4. their story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awalkingparadox made me art and its been months but i am still losing my mind. want to see portraits of lady juno and lord peter and their animal selves?   
https://seratlantisite.tumblr.com/post/612942229160476672  
also wolf juno's eye scar is canon now i love it so much

Mick, of course, filled in Peter on what had transpired while he was… a bird.

With Peter’s hand crushing both of Mick’s, and a piece of wood clenched in the poor man’s teeth. With Rita and Sasha working to remove the bolt from his shoulder, Mick talked. In his story Juno was the errant knight, riding in and saving poor Mick from the hoard of devils, his bow shining with divine light. He was dashing, he was invulnerable, his arm never tired and his aim never missed. In between fainting and rousing, Peter watched him talk. He was lost to the intricacies of Mick’s plot, certainly. But he smiled when Juno’s name was mentioned and mumbled an addition or two of his own. Mick nodded encouragingly, having heard not a word, but wove it into the tale regardless.

When Sasha finished completely and Peter’s eyes rolled back in sleep, they three left him to rest.

They set up outside with a fire and dinner and blankets. Rita and Sasha shared one, leaning on each other, Mick noted. Sasha Wire, the strongest woman he knew, sagged against her tiny partner, utterly drained, watching the fire with eyes beyond tired. Rita had her head on Sasha’s shoulder, rubbing circles into Sasha’s hand.

Mick tossed the remains of his food into the fire and coughed. “So… uh, Jay married a bird. Good for him.”

“He wasn’t a bird when they met, Mistah Mercury,” Rita said, small and quiet.

“Alright but he is like, a changeling? Some kind of fairy—"

“They didn’t do this, Mick,” Sasha snapped. “It was done to them.” She dragged a still damp hand through her hair. “And it was my fault.”

“You didn’t curse them, honey buns,” Rita insisted. Sasha buried her face against Rita’s hair as the smaller woman tugged the blanket around them. “Mistah Peter first came to town years ago as this expert for the church, to evaluate all those relics the Bishop found. You remember, don’t you Mistah Mercury?”

He nodded. He remembered the fanfare and the forced holiday and the speculative stories everyone told. Relics that could have belonged to Andromeda herself, or the creatures she fought and destroyed.

“Except he was lying,” Sasha mumbled. “He’s a thief. He stole half of them and came back for more, greedy bastard. Juno caught him and ran him out of town.”

“Only he kept coming back, because he was in love with Mistah Steel! And Mistah Steel loved him too, but they couldn’t just be together because he’d stolen from the Kanagawa clan who hated his guts, so they had to be all secretive about their love. So they could only meet in disguise by moonlight on the third bridge and they had a secret flower language, and ooh Mistah Peter would bring all these treasures from his travels just for his one true love and tell him all about his adventures and how he only ever thought about Mistah Steel and it was just the most romantic thing ever.”

“That’s not exactly how—"

“But then! Oh then, Mistah Mercury,” Rita sighed wistfully, “he came back again, only this time he was the Lord of Rose and he swept Mistah Steel off his feet and they got married! It was so beautiful!”

Sasha groaned. “He’d made enough money _somehow_ to fool the Kanagawas with this identity. So yes, he could stay in town. And yes, he married Juno. But quietly. I was their officiant and their only true witness. They wanted to use his real name and Juno…” She swallowed. “Juno trusted me.”

Mick watched a log burst in the fire, sparks lighting the night sky. “What happened?”

She took Rita’s hand and started playing with her fingers. “Juno was mugged and his wedding ring—he wore it on this chain so he could hide it—it was stolen. Word got to the Kanagawas that their captain had married without telling them, and then—” she clutched at Rita’s hand, “—I let slip that Peter wasn’t who he said he was to Min when she came asking and—”

She choked up, fury and despair in her eyes. She pressed her free hand over her mouth and looked away again. Rita reached out and squeezed her knee. “I aint never heard Bishop Cecil yell so loud, Mistah Mercury, and I worked with him and the boss for years. And I was across the castle! He’s horrible, but he really thought of boss was his best friend…

“We all packed up real fast and ran. Only,” she sniffled, “we barely made it a day out when the sun came up and…”

“And Peter flew away,” Mick finished for her.

She nodded. “Mistah Steel said he never wanted to Sasha again. That vein was popping and everything,” she added softly. “We’ve been out here ever since, trying to figure out how to fix it. There’s a bunch of books, in that old library. And we’re close enough to town to check theirs too, sometimes, and…” She trailed off too.

“So,” Mick frowned at the flames, “they’ve just been alone, b-but together this whole time?”

“Pretty much.”

“What the hell were those two even doing?” Sasha yelled, suddenly. “If they die then it’s all over, dammit. Why wouldn’t they just work with us!” She stood and paced away from the fire. “If it was worth risking their lives for then it was worth… Dammit, whatever they were after in that castle… _Dammit Juno._”

Rita leaned towards Mick, eyes wide. “Did they tell you what they were doing? What Mistah Peter was tryna steal?”

He chewed his lip. “Looking for something Cecil had, I think. Said it would help Jay, but, not how.”

Sasha stared at the moon, furious tears dotting her cheeks. “Steel…”

* * *

Mick stirred from his sleep, poking his head out of the pile of furs he’d burrowed into. The hearth’s fire had died out, but Peter was still reading by candlelight. Still focused on the book in his hand. He probably hadn’t been what woken Mick.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked. Slurred, really.

Peter hummed. “I wake fully refreshed each sunset. The curse is funny like that. And since Sasha won’t let me leave to look for my husband…” He turned a page.

“Sash is strict like that.”

“Never approved of me marrying her friend,” he muttered under his breath, “suddenly she _‘cares for my well being’_.”

“…she’s complicated, too.”

Peter harrumphed. Mick hadn’t known this man before, but that struck him as an utterly Juno sound to make. Whether these two were always meant to be, or picking up on each others’ habits, Mick couldn’t tell. But he smiled all the same.

Mick sat up enough to lean on Peter’s shoulder. He read a few lines of his book, but it was in a strange language and the pictures made no sense. So he said instead “Yeah but you blame her for the curse, right? So it’s even.”

“…Do I?” Peter said slowly.

“Don’t you? Because she told the Kanagawa matriarch and she told Cecil and Cecil felt all betrayed and… I don’t know sacrificed a goat to curse you. Didn’t he?”

“…Do you frequently cuddle up to men you barely know, Mister Mercury?”

“Naw but you’re basically my brother-in-law. And too boney to really be comfy,” he added, settling more snuggly against him. Peter, he noted, made no move to remove him. “And avoiding my question.”

“It made life…more…interesting. But no. I don’t blame _Sasha_,” he said finally. Mick nodded along, though his eyes were drooping again.

“So if Juno keeps bird-you trained to stay close,” he asked, because why not, “what do you do with wolf-him?”

Peter huffed a soft chuckle. “Very little. I’ve learned a few tricks, but he stays close on his own.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm. He…” Peter waved his hand, “I’m not sure how to explain it. He’s a wolf without a pack, and no pack to find. So he stays close. He recognizes me enough to ignore me, largely.” He raised an eyebrow at Mick. “Never greeted _me_ quite so enthusiastically, that’s for certain.”

“What can I say, I’m just Jay’s favourite person.”

Peter snorted. “Mostly I watch him around people, make certain he doesn’t hurt anyone. He wouldn’t remember, but…”

But it would matter to Juno, Mick thought. He felt a rush of warmth for this man who loved and cared for his best friend. “Don’t know why Sash didn’t approve of you,” he said with a yawn, “you sound great.”

“Thief, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Hey, what’s your favourite thing you’ve ever stolen?”

Peter froze. “No one has ever asked me that…” he said with a slow growing smile, “Interesting.” He always pursed his lips when thinking, Mick had noticed. “Hypothetically, of course, aside from my dearest Ruby, that would have to be the Peloponnesian emeralds. Have you ever had to train ducks, Mick? Because let me tell you—”

Rita threw open the door to their improvised guest room, looking haggard and a little wild eyed. “Heeeeeeeey Mistahs Mercury and Steel,” she said cheerily. “So, no big deal but it kinda seems like the city guard figured out there’s no where else nearby for you to hide and they’re yelling at Sasha to let ‘em up or else they’ll start climbin’ the cliff and she’s gonna let ‘em in so you should really hide maybe. Like right now. Or don’t, whatever it’s really up to you.”

“Rita, we’re heading into the stables!” Sasha yelled, emphasizing the last word.

“C-coming, dear!” Rita hollered back. _“Go!” _she stage whispered at them, and dashed back out.

“WHAT??” Mick screamed. Or would have, if Peter had not slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Stay calm,” Peter said in a firm, quiet tone. “If there is one thing I am good at, it’s disappearing.” He took Mick’s chin and turned him to see the door on the far side of the room. Opposite the one Rita had used. “Come along now.”

Peter released him and stood gracefully. Only to turn ashen, eyes glassing over. Mick leapt up and managed to catch him before he hit the ground.

“Forgot you just had surgery, huh?” Mick quietly teased.

Peter did not dignify that with a response. He linked his arm through Mick’s, leaning heavily on him and dragging him towards the back door in turn. They slipped outside and through shadows to the next structure. Their guestroom was cozy, but it was only a lonely room, the connecting halls having long crumbled away. Loose stones and determined grasses carpeted their path to the main building of the observatory now. Peter stepped nimbly around it all, barefoot and lightheaded as he was. Mick, however.

Mick tripped. And Peter was dragged down with him, landing on his bandaged shoulder. And he choked out a cry.

Soldiers’ shouts came in reply.

Mick dragged up the taller man and ran for the nearest doors. They opened onto a winding staircase. He tucked them both into an alcove up a few steps, in complete darkness, letting Peter crush his hand as the man muffled his own sobs with the other.

“I’m sorry,” Mick hissed, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry!”

The door crashed open. Mick screamed. Soldiers squeezed through the entryway. Just three, but they were well armed. Then Peter darted out around him.

A silver blade flashed in his hand—where did he even get that—and the first soldier screamed. Peter kicked them down the narrow way into their comrades.

“Go!” he yelled, stumbling against the stone steps. He took Mick’s arm again and the two ran upwards, sounds of pursuit echoing up to them.

The stairs ended in a trapdoor in a wooden ceiling. Mick pushed it, threw his weight against it and almost lost his footing, but it did not budge.

“Hold on,” Peter grunted. He slid his dagger into the gap at the edge, working it against the rusty latch. It shed a cloud of iron dust, and gave way.

The pair scrambled out, into the open air and the paling darkness. They stood atop a solitary tower, much too far from the rest of the buildings to jump. Even if Peter could have handled it, that is.

Peter cursed in a strange language. He sank against the crenellations, a fine sheen of sweat shining his ashen face.

“Are you, okay?” Mick asked. He eyed Peter warily. Peter just shook his head and held out the dagger. Mick took it, feeling the warmed hilt and the startlingly cool blade. It hadn’t just been a trick of the light; the knife really was made of silver. He looked to Peter, ready to ask, but the thief grit his teeth and smiled.

“Juno has his anointed arrows,” he gasped, “I have silvered…” He trailed off, gasping.

And then he cried out a warning.

A soldier was forcing her way through the trap door. Mick leapt onto it, his weight slamming it shut. But he heard her snarl, and the whole door shuddered as she slammed it, but it held. Peter staggered over and took back his dagger, jamming it into the gap between door and frame alongside the hinges.

“Hey,” Mick said with a grin, “quick thinking there—”

He cut off with a shout, jumping back as a sword speared up between wooden slats. Except he stumbled into Peter. And the thief fell back into the gap between crenellations. Back into open air.

There was a moment where Peter’s eyes locked with his, wide with shock, and the rest of the world blurred around those two dark points. Then those eyes shut, crying out in pain. Mick realized he had Peter’s hand, holding him fast as both hung over the edge of the tower. His other hand held the crumbling stone of the crenellation, rotting wood digging into his abdomen.

“I’ve got you!” he grit out, even as he felt Peter’s hand slipping from his. He clutched those slim fingers tighter, desperately.

He could see Peter’s wound, seeping through his robe. His eyes were glassing over again, gasping with pain. But his fingers hooked against Mick’s hand. Weakly, but he was trying. Mick started talking to him, begging him to stay awake, running through the dozens of preposterous ideas on how to get out of here. Anything to keep him conscious. Behind him the wood of the door shuddered and creaked, and over the hills the horizon was burning red with…

Sunrise.

Peter seemed to realize at the same time Mick did. He strained his neck to look up. “Find him,” he begged, “please.”

And then the first rays of sunlight hit him.

Body melted away and feathers erupted under the golden light. He slipped from Mick’s grasp. His eyes burned into Micks’ as he fell, even after he twisted away, clothes fluttering down the cliff as the hawk flew into the wide-open sky.

He’s fine, Mick told himself, still half hanging over the edge, You let him go but he’s totally fine.

The trapdoor exploded in a shower of splinters.

Mick swallowed. “I, however, am screwed,” he muttered.

He turned slowly to face the soldier, coming face to face with her sword.

“Where’s the other one?” she snarled.

Mick’s mouth was too dry to gulp a second time. “Would, ah, would you believe me if I said he flew away?”

The sword point dug into his cheek.

“I asked you a question, you—”

An arrow crashed into her armoured hand. Her sword went flying, and she reeled back. A second arrow rang her helmet. She stumbled, tripped over loose stones, and hit the ground, out cold. One of Juno’s newly familiar white-fletched arrows laying across the stones.

It was a full minute before Mick could do more than just stare at her.

* * *

Juno hung his bow and quiver on Ruby’s saddle, running a hand over her flank and muttering an apology to her for the day before. The hawk squawked at him, hopping from the saddle horn to his arm. Juno gave a wet laugh and stroked the bird’s head. He gave it a kiss, whispered something into its feathers that no one else could hear. He shrank then, as he folded around his hawk. Pulling it to his chest, running a shaking hand over its sleek back. It tucked its little chin onto his shoulder. The world fell still as Juno held his husband.

And then the hawk took off again.

“Fickle thing,” he grumped, smiling. But he sagged against Ruby, a tiredness in his eyes that seemed deeper than a hard fought day and a night.

“Are you sure you’re alright buddy?”

“I’m fine, Mercury,” he sighed. “Just. Long night.” He climbed into Ruby’s saddle, turning her to leave their sanctuary once more.

“But Mistah Steel you just got here!” Rita cried. More than just her normal volume too, there were tears forming in her eyes.

Juno reached down and squeezed her fingers in his. “We have to keep moving, Rita you know that.” He smiled to her, sad and tired and very sorry. “You two should probably leave here too, as soon as possible. Before the day’s out. Take Mick with you, he’ll be safer away from me and Peter.”

All three people protested at the same time. Juno ran a hand down his face. “Why does no one just listen to me,” he growled.

“Because you’re being as stubborn as always,” Sasha said, hands planted on her hips and that righteous gleam in her eyes. “Rita and I have been studying the old magic Cecil used and—”

“No thanks Wire.”

“—and there's an eclipse coming up that I think—"

_“I said no Sasha!”_

She sputtered, face going red. “Since when do you just ignore the facts of a case?”

“When they come from you,” he spat.

“Goddamnit Juno! We are here for you, you don’t have to fight this alone!”

“_Don’t we?_ Because last time I checked Sasha trusting someone was what got us into this mess. Trusting _you_, actually so excuse me for not giving you a chance to stab me in the back again!”

“Mistah Steel!”

Juno flushed, open and shut his mouth. “I am not apologizing for that. It’s the goddamn truth.”

Sasha and Juno glared at each other, two snarling wolves, teeth bared and hackles up. She lunged first.

“Countless authorities were looking for your husband, probably still are if we are being honest, it was just a matter of time before one of them closed in. That it just happened to be the local authorities—"

“Oh here we go again.”

“It was not my fault he was at the top of the Kanagawa’s most wanted list!”

Juno grimaced like she'd put a fist to an old wound. "Goodbye Sasha,” he said, swinging Ruby around.

“Juno! Juno dammit don't do this!” Sasha was reduced to jogging after him when he refused to respond. She called after him, “What do you want from me? I've already apologized!”

“A-actually, sweetie you ain't never apologized.” Sasha whirled on her, wild eyed. Rita didn't so much as flinch. “You just always start arguing like this.”

Juno and Ruby were getting farther down the slope.

Sasha gaped, face red, muscle in her jaw visibly clenched.

The hawk called far over head.

_“I'm sorry!”_

* * *

_Juno, Mick told me of your...bravery_

<strike> _It was my mistake you shouldnt have_ </strike>

<strike> _What if I lost_ </strike>

_I love you, more than I can ever express. If you value me, you will take care for yourself too. For me._

_And. I think we should work with Sasha and Rita again. I know you miss Rita dearly and I know you are angry with Sasha but. My love <strike>she wasn't</strike> _

_<strike>i never meant</strike> _

_ <strike>it wasnt only</strike> _

* * *

_Peter I know that was reckless. I'm sorry hun you were hurt and I panicked. But I know I know, I can't see you again if I sacrifice myself stupidly, so I'm being careful. If it helps there was a plan, Mick just couldn't tell._

_And i think we should work with them too. Sash finally said it._

_I'm so glad you are ok_

_Are you ready to tell me the whole story yet?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just realized peters glasses have been obliterated rip
> 
> comments make me smile like a goof


	5. the lord and the thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it uh. sure has been a while huh? woops.  
also i mean i decided this chapter needed more so i started adding flashbacks and it became over 4k long so uh. happy birthday?
> 
> also... i try to keep this fic non graphic but peter does kill an npc bc that's how the movie goes. the fight is short and non graphic but there's an asterisk * before and after it so you can just skip it. it won't hurt my feelings i promise  
also cw for peter's ongoing mild panic attack and breakdown. that's harder to skip.

_Juno and Peter, hand in hand, out of breath, stop running in the middle of the forest. Juno would run left, pretend he was still chasing The Thief for a bit while Peter slunk into the darkness to the right._

_But that would mean letting the other go._

_They lean into each other, foreheads pressed together. Dallying longer than they should. Peter opens his mouth to breathe something witty, or maybe something romantic against Juno's skin but what comes out was "Come with me."_

_They both flinch._

_“Nureyev I'm sorry –”_

_“No I Know, I –”_

_“My responsibilities to –”_

_“I didn't mean to –”_

_“You deserve –”_

_Peter pulls him into a crushing kiss. The fact that Juno doesn't complain or laugh about kissing him while he still has the fake nose speaks to the gravity of the situation. They put everything, everything they'd run out of time to say, into that kiss._

_And then they hear the guards in the distance._

_Juno wrenches himself away with a shudder. He stares at Peter for a long, brutal moment, then turns and runs. As quietly as Peter had taught him, at first, then louder and clumsier the farther he gets. Peter watches him go, feeling like his heart has been ripped straight out of his chest. And it's only with tears even he can't fold away that he runs. With every step he curses the life he chose that brought him and Juno together, but kept them forever apart._

_No matter what Juno thought his own reasons or chose his actions, deep down he needs to feel safe. Hyperion is familiar, so it is safe. A life on the run with a man he barely knows, only has a passionate affair with every few months? That isn't enough for Juno._

Peter Nureyev _isn't enough for Juno._

* * *

_A vibrant voice argues with a familiar rough grumble. Peter tries not to smile. Bishop Cecil, however, does, giddily. He presses a finger to his lips and leads Peter closer to the voices._

_"...go. I'll meet 'em at some point, I'm sure. Like the first time he loses something and assumes its stolen and makes me search the whole damn –”_

_"But you just look so dashin' in your formal armour. Oh and Andromeda’s sword," they pout. Peter tries not to hate them for fawning over his very dashing lady._

_"Then draw my face on a mannequin and make him wear it," Juno growls. "I'm busy."_

_"Too busy for your best friend June Bug?" Cecil sings as they round the corner. Peter sees the shiver go down Juno's spine. The Captain and his pretty, long haired, claw nailed companion look over at the same moment and Juno's remaining eye goes wide. It's rightly shocked, but Peter allows himself to feel flattered. He did his best to make a good seventh first-impression, after all._

_"Super Nova, June Bug," Cecil trills, sweeping his arms wide, "I present to you Lord Peter of Rose. Arrived early this morning for his own welcoming gala tonight. We haven't even finished decorating."_

_"Well we had fair winds and I simply couldn’t wait to meet my new neighbours."_

_"Isn't he darling?" Cecil stage whispers. "Peter, this is Her Imperial Highness, Grand Duchess Nova Zolatovna of Russia. She's been sojourning with us ever since that dreadful attempt on her life. It's been positively wonderful.”_

_Peter takes the dainty hand presented to him and presses a quick kiss to Nova's rings. "Your grace is looking well. It's good to see you thriving in the face of such adversity." Peter keeps one ring. For the bad taste the compliment leaves in his mouth. No one but Juno notices._

_Nova's eyes burn into him, and she says "Dibs."_

_Juno gapes. Peter blinks. "Beg pardon?"_

_"I said did you meet the captain of the city guard, Dame Juno Steel?"_

_Peter recovers better from Nova's slip up than Juno, who takes a few moments to tear his gaze away from the Duchess. He meets Peter's eyes, that lovely, open face flickering between loving suspicion and a shy smile. "Steel?" Peter rolls the word around his mouth, as if he's never said it before. "I don't suppose there's any relation to..."_

_"The great Andromeda herself? Your looking at her very own great-great grandchild!" Nova takes the opportunity to lean in close, elbowing Cecil out of the way and draping herself on Peter's arm. "Their family has lived in the Holy City of First Light for generations! But our dear Jujube is the first to be anywhere near as impressive as the Demon Slayer. And he is just about the most loyal friend a gal could have, I cannot count all the times he's gotten my precious self out of trouble –”_

_"He'll have to hear about that later, Nova dear," Cecil cuts in, grinding his teeth. "We still have so much to do before tonight's ball –”_

_"And you look so tired already Cecey. You go have yourself a little lie down, I'll take good care of Lord Rose."_

_Cecil looks affronted, turning as violent a shade of red as Peter had ever seen on anyone. Juno just sighs and rubs at his temples._

_…_

_"Before you ask," Peter says from Juno's favourite armchair, where he's been waiting for him to come home, "I have, in fact, memorized every route from my new apartment to yours."_

_"I hope some of those are stealthy," Juno says back. He hangs up his favourite old cloak and sags against the door like he could collapse right there. "Cecil spent two hours coming up with the perfect way to slight Her Imperial Majesty later tonight for hogging you. You might have just started a war with a wink."_

_"Charming."_

_"Not kidding. If either of them thinks I stole you out from under them –”_

_"They'll take out their frustrations the only way nobles know how. Right." Peter smirks. "Well what's the worst they could do to us, hmm? Send a few imperial armies after us?"_

_"Nureyev –”_

_"What are mere soldiers to the worlds greatest thief?"_

_"Peter!"_

_"Sorry." The thief sobers immediately, a touch of nerves slipping through his mask. "It may be a complication, perhaps, but we'll figure it out. It... still has to be easier than what we were doing before, right? Gives us a fighting chance at least. At us." He swallows. He doesn't blink._

_Juno's brow pinches, thinking. "How did you get a title good enough to walk into Min's own court? She still very much has a bounty on your head."_

_"I am a master of forgery, darling." Peter smiles but Juno frowns. A sigh. "It's a long story. Another time?"_

_Juno softens. He goes to squeeze in next to Peter. "So you're... here now. Real face and everything."_

_"Well I avoid face prostheses when I can, for longer...roles. And I wanted to be as much myself as possible."_

_Juno tucks himself into Peter's side, draping a warm arm across him. "How long are you staying this time?"_

_Peter presses a kiss to the crown of his lady's head. "As long as you'll have me," he breathes._

* * *

Peter pulled Juno’s cloak around himself and buried his nose in it. Still warm, still smelling like the lady. He sighed and took another selfish moment to bask in it, imagining Juno’s arms around him.

“Peter?”

He arranged the smile on his face and turned. Mick was harder to make out with his old glasses, but they were all he had left. “Hello Mister Mercury. And where are we this evening?”

“An inn.” Mick draped himself over the little gate across Ruby's stall. “Rita said she’d had enough camping, called you two barbarians for doing it, and then bought us all rooms.”

"How gracious of her."

Mick opened the stall and held his arm out for Peter to take. "Hungry? Juno thought you might like the pumpkin bread." He saw the face Peter heroically tried not to make and raised an eyebrow. "Was he that wrong?"

"It... was the first thing he ever made for me..."

"Oh no."

"I couldn't bring myself to tell him - stop laughing!"

"You've been married for three years!" Mick wheezed. He had to stop and double over, he was laughing so hard. Peter glared at the wall.

“Have they agreed on a plan to infiltrate the winter palace or no?” Peter ground out.

Mick wiped at his tears and waved to cut Peter off. “Nope, none of that tonight.”

“Beg pardon?”

“You guys have done nothing but plan for a day and a night and a day again. I convinced Rita and sash to turn in, Juno’s off uh, doing Juno things.”

“But –”

“Nuh uh. You guys have planned plenty around this attack at sunset.”

“During the eclipse”

“See? you know it backwards and forwards. You deserve a night off.”

Peter studied Mick – simple, smiling Mick Mercury, and saw he wasn't going to be swayed. Or maybe Peter just wanted the night off, deep down. “And what shall I be doing instead, hmm?”

“We're gonna go dancing!”

“Beg pardon?”

Mick swept an arm wide towards the inn proper. "C'mon, two different travelling bands are staying here for the night. They're competing or something, been at it for hours!" He beamed his gap toothed smile. Peter felt a surge of fondness for his brother-in-law. How he lit up with excitement and a story. "Management cleared out a dance floor, it'll be fun!"

Peter couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "Escorting me to a dance, Mick?" He took the offered arm.

"Hey, I'm not the best, but we all picked up a little from Ben."

"Well by all means then."

They left the stables just as a rider and horse tried to enter and blocked their path and all parties stopped in their tracks. Mick squawked indignantly and started arguing with the rider. Peter couldn't speak, could barely hear them. He saw the bear traps tied to the horse's saddle, and he felt sick.

"Are you a hunter, then?" he managed, interrupting the erupting argument.

The rider blinked at him, then smiled. It made Peter's stomach churn. "Sure am, kind sir," he said, puffing out his chest. "Kanagawas are offering a kings bounty for a one-eyed wolf. I've been on his trail for days now." He leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered, "Everyone thinks that he's heading south but ya see, I'm the best there is."

“And uh, w-what makes you think he'll be up here? Way too many people in this area,” Mick babbled. “There's no way a wild animal would be nearby. That... doesn't make sense! You uh, you’re wasting your time pal.”

“Yet all the farmer's who've seen him have said the same thing, _pal_.”

“W-well... then they're imagining things!”

“Well we'll see then, won't we? Gonna have myself a drink and a nice room, and then I'll go check the traps I left out there, see who –”

Peter ran. He was in Ruby's saddle before he even registered what he was doing, was racing her out past Mick before he even stopped to think. Because he couldn't think. Every fibre of him was nearly blind with terror, and he wouldn't be able to fold it away until he saw Juno was okay with his own eyes.

Branches tore at his face. Wind filled his ears. Only the barest fingers of moonlight reached through the trees and Peter wondered what eldritch entity he'd have to appeal to for the Hawk's keen senses, just for this one night.

A Wolf howled, and Peter pulled Ruby up short. There was a crack, a metallic snap and a cry and Peter screamed too. It came from the brush. Off the path. Too dense for a horse, so Peter took off on foot.

Peter Nureyev had never been a spiritual man, but Peter Steel prayed, no begged anyone who would listen to keep Juno safe. It wasn't Juno's fault, it wasn't fair, Peter still had to fix his mistake...

There was a large fallen branch off to his right, freshly broken. Still-wet sap beaded out the severed, jagged end, and... claw marks scored the length? Metal glinted between the leaves – a trap sprung. But what was that... caught in its metal teeth? It was cold to his fingers – bait. It was bait left in a trap. Not a creature. Whatever higher power was listening to him, he thanked. Profusely.

Think like a detective, Peter told himself. The branch had been rather low on the tree, he could tell by the wound it left in the trunk. Wolves could jump but not climb. Perhaps a wolf had used the branch to... investigate the trap? Were all wolves that cautious? Juno wasn’t like all wolves – he distrusted anything metallic and he was protective of strangers and startled easily and – and as much as Peter hated the thought of it, the hunter was probably right. The love of his life was likely nearby.

And in danger.

Peter started moving again. He had to find –

“Found you,” the hunter growled.

Metal pressed into his back. “His Excellency warned us that there might be someone tryna protect the wolf. Tryna seal the bounty for yourself?” The hunter spit. “I can respect that. But I can’t let you do it.”

“What would it take to get you to abandon this hunt?”

A gravelly cackle. “Unless you are an Emperor, or the King of the Faeries, you can’t afford it handsome.”

Peter swallowed. _I tried, Juno,_ he thought. “Fine but, at least let me face you.”

A pause. “… alright.” The pressure at his back eased. “But no funny –”

*

Peter whirled. Knives appeared in his hands. A silvered blade knocked the crude sword away. Peter lunged. The knife’s twin sank home with an assassin’s accuracy. The hunter yelped, dropped his weapon. He staggered back, clutching at the knife.

Peter advanced. “You said you were the only hunter who thought to come this way, correct?” he asked.

The hunter snarled. Drew out Peters own blade and threw himself at the thief, wicked-point first. But he was woozy and Peter merely side stepped. The hunter fell to the leaf litter. He did not get up.

*

A hysteric sort of laugh escaped Peter, but it dissolved, quite quickly, into gasping breaths and choked tears. He staggered into some tree for support, scrubbing furiously at his face to make himself stop.

He moved away, sniffling, scanning for more traps or life or anything in this _ridiculous, dense outdoor nonsense. _Until he was stopped by the sight of a single, glowing eye, peering up at him.

A deep growl rumbled out from the undergrowth.

“J-juno?”

* * *

_"Signora Kanagawa? You wanted to see me?” Peter steps around her guards and into the spacious but tasteful office. Much more restrained than Cecil’s gaudy nightmare of a decorating style everywhere else in the town and his castle. And the winter palace too, castle Phobos, from what little he had seen of it._

_“Yes, Lord Rose. I wanted to see how you were doing.” She closes her ledgers and smiles up at him. It leaves him cold. “It must be dreadful, your wife being attacked and robbed like that. In his own city, too.”_

_“I… beg your pardon?” Peter pastes on a polite smile. “I assure you I am quite the bachelor.”_

_“Well that’s what I assumed, too. Until Juno had that little, unfortunate accident of his –”_

_“I’d hardly call a robbery a –”_

_“And this little trinket of his made its way back to me,” she says, impassively. And she pulls out the long chain with a rose gold ring on it that Peter knows intimately. He’d commissioned both of them for Juno. “And I began to wonder why Captain Steel would hide something as lovely as a wedding. To be private is one thing, but to hide something so well even I didn’t know about it? Well that’s a whole new level of paranoia from our dear Captain. Lovely brooch you have there by the way,” she says. Deceptively like an afterthought, but Peter’s heart pounds in fear. The brooch is bronze filaments woven with a… matching rose gold ring hidden amongst them. He fights the urge to hide it._

_“I will admit, it took me quite a bit of work to unravel your web, thief. You should almost feel proud. But you really should have been more careful.” And she pulls out a thick folio._

_“What –” Peter’s mouth is dry. He tries again. “What is this?”_

_“This is a contract I drew up between myself and an old friend of yours.” She taps the seal stamped at the bottom and Peter's blood runs cold. “Freshly signed. As of this afternoon I now own all your rather extensive debts, Mister Nureyev.”_

_Peter can’t breathe - there has to be an iron vice around his lungs, he is sure of it._

_“If you'd like you can continue this little Rose charade while you stay at my court. As long as you complete the work I give you, I really don't care what you're called. Though I suppose communication is key in a marriage.”_

_“No, I...” can't tell Juno I failed at this. He swallows. He smiles. “There's no reason to confuse your courtiers.”_

_She hums. “They are rather simple, aren't they. I'll send you your copy of the contract in the morning. And the first items I would like you to add to our collection. There won’t be set time frames, but,” and she pulls out Juno’s ring again, “I trust you’ll work in a timely manner.”_

* * *

The wolf kept up his snarling. Peter, slowly, carefully, held his knife away from him. He placed it on the ground and straightened. The wolf went silent. He took some steps away, off in opposite direction from the… hunter. Juno scrutinized him, but judged that he was now ‘safe’. The wolf relaxed his posture, and crept out from the brush. The relief Peter felt was immense.

And then he noticed the limp.

A gasp, or maybe a sob slipped from him. He dropped to the ground, knees landing squarely in mud but he ignored that awful feeling and held his hands out. But the wolf hesitated.

“Oh, Juno, I –” his words failed him, for a moment. “Don’t do this. You know me, I love you, please just let me…” He carefully took one hand back. Juno was in pain, so he had to not overwhelm him. One hand, reaching, patiently waiting.

The wolf sniffed out towards him. Peter crept a step closer. The wolf nuzzled into his hand and Peter almost burst into tears.

On his knees, even sitting mostly straight the wolf was quite a bit larger than him. But the way Juno hunched around his hurt foot, Peter felt like his detective was impossibly small.

Still snapped with teeth long as his finger when he reached for the paw. But Peter was willing to sit and wait. And eventually, by inches, the wolf let him.

“It’s alright,” he cooed. “A scratch this small? It’ll be all healed up by the sunrise, if you’ll let me clean it. You’ll never even know you had it. That’s the one small gift of this wretched curse.” The wolf just watched him with a somber eye.

He stayed still while Peter went and found a good sized stick for the wolf to gnaw at, as a distraction. Juno took it happily.

It was… difficult. Trying to clean a wild animal’s wound was a real test of his skill and speed. Once, Juno got fed up and tried to crawl away from him, but he couldn’t really go far. It still took quite a bit of gentle talking and petting to lure him back. Though the poor creature was clearly pouting. And all the while Peter kept talking.

“You’re a good girl, Juno. My good, brave, darling who… w-who…” he choked off. He’d long since finished, but sat there still, petting Juno’s warm flank. For Juno’s comfort, he insisted to himself.

Well, he’d always been a liar.

When he tried again to speak, but all that came out was another sob – really, when had he become such a blubbering mess – the wolf looked up at him and stood. He did, Peter assumed, what he thought to be crawling into Peter’s lap to gently cuddle him. But when you were a gangly, two-hundred pound wolf, with as much muscle as Juno ever had and far more than Peter did, it was more like being lovingly run over by a well meaning, very soft cart.

There was a soft impact, an impossible weight on him, a mouthful of fur, and rather a lot of flailing on both sides. Peter eventually realized Juno had gently placed his head on Peter’s shoulder. His weight was a lot, but present, grounding. Peter wrapped the wolf in his arms. A fact about wolf fur – it is quite deep. Deeper than you imagine – He took his wolf into his arms and it was really like nearly disappearing, it felt, into the wolf’s fur. Away from the world, in the embrace of some…one that wanted to comfort him when he was sad.

So he let himself cry.

Buried in Juno’s arms in the dark of the night was really the only times he let himself cry, though… it had been quite a while.

He buried his face into Juno’s side. His glasses were forced up his head. His tears disappeared into fur. He cried until his voice had returned to him, and then he said, finally:

“It’s all my fault. I am so, _so sorry, love.”_

* * *

_The Egg of Purus. Min Kanagawa wants the Egg of Purus._

_The Gauntlet of Luteuthis had been first. It fit perfectly as Cecil’s prosthetic arm. Though he keeps the demonic army it grants him quiet at first. Just some extra large, extra quiet personal guards._

_There are other relics he’s stolen, other prizes for Min. He is ashamed to admit how many. The Codex of Cryptoteuthis was the latest. And by Jove it will be the last._

_Because just seeing the word Purus on the paper makes him utterly, horribly sick to his stomach._

_Min can see his hesitation – the revulsion is too strong for even him to hide – and she takes Juno’s wedding ring out once again to threaten him with. But he can only see Miasma’s twisting snarling acid breathing form and Juno so small and vulnerable and hurt and they had slain her with the Nomad’s Fang before she could set it off but it was going to happen all over again and Juno –_

_Juno –_

_Peter takes the paper and walks out of Min’s office. And when he leaves the keep he runs through shadows like there are hounds at his heels. Like his life depends on it. Like Juno’s life depends on it._

_He crashes through the door of their home and practically into Juno himself. The stocky lady catches him._

_“Woah, hon! Are you okay?” he asks. So kind, so caring…_

_“We have to leave,” he says. He hadn’t meant to say that. Or maybe he had – panic is making thought confusing._

_Juno practically carries him to the couch – it’s not that far, the apartment is quite small, homey – and sets him on it like he’s a precious, fragile thing. Rita and Sasha are there, with tea. Should he be sharing this in front of them? It hardly matters now._

_“We have to leave,” he says again, desperate. “I’m so sorry I failed again but this time you’re caught up in it too it can’t just be me to leave but we have to leave I can’t –” and he can’t get enough breath to continue. Juno wraps an arm around him and tells him to breathe, and he follows the rhythm of Juno’s chest until the room stops spinning._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“They know,” he says. Instead of ‘she’. He must truly be a coward, can barely even name her._

_There’s a gasp. “How does –” he catches himself. “How much?” Juno asks instead._

_“Everything – our marriage, my name,” there is another gasp from Rita, louder. “I’ve ruined your home for you I’m so, so sorry love but they threatened –” and he is hyperventilating once again._

_Juno runs a steady hand over his back, slow calming circles._

_And then he says “Okay.”_

_Peter blinks at him. “What?”_

_“We’ll go. We can be out of here before midnight, probably. If we leave most of your closet.”_

_“But,” Peter hiccups, “Hyperion is your life, your home, I –”_

_And Juno cups his cheek, and says “No, you fool. You are.”_

* * *

_Peter should have known better than to think Min couldn't reach him, just because they ran._

* * *

Peter awoke on the floor of a lightening forest, a great weight wrapped around him and a little bit on him.

The wolf had kept him warm and safe all through the night.

He ran shaking, stiff fingers through dense fur, so different from Juno’s coily locks. The wolf shifted, thumped his large head to look at him. Peter gave his love a watery smile.

“Someday, love, I’ll be as brave as you and tell you the whole, real story,” he whispered as dawn broke through the trees and burned his skin.

Juno awoke on the floor of a sun-lit golden forest, as he did so many nights. Only, there was a set of clothes laid out over top him. And his hawk was stuck in the shirt, angrily cawing and struggling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said Miasma wasn’t going to be part of this story then all of a sudden she was there?? So I guess she’s part of their background now and all of season one was like the first two months of their acquaintance and then they dated off and on for a hectic year and then Peter said fuck this actually and married Juno and now its years later and they’re both animals sometimes. We have a full timeline now you are welcome
> 
> also, not pictured: nova and cecil sobbing into each other's arms and making juno witness their pinky promise to never let a boy come between them again


	6. the final days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our heroes settle finalize their plans to break the curse and prepare themselves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw in end notes

_My Darling Juno. Do remember how you proposed to me? You ruined four months of planning you cad. You wonderful romantic you. It was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. Micholas asked me the other day why I never made the joke of “the best thing I’d ever stolen” being you, your heart. As much as I adore the quip, even I wouldn’t take credit for something freely given _

_There is a daisy for you in the next page. It is the colour you wore on our first date. You were divine, my goddess._

* * *

Sunset was coming. Juno was waiting. Arm out, gauntlet on, as he had every evening for a year. When the hawk’s form came into view finally, Juno relaxed. Well, as much as he could while still braced for a large bird to land on him.

“There you are you stubborn thing. Keeping a lady waiting like that, I was almost worr—"

Juno choked on his words as the hawk sailed right past him. And he whirled to look just in time as he landed on a very startled Mick. The bird looking perfectly comfortable where he’d landed.

“Oh, hey buddy!” Mick cooed. And he started petting the hawk’s head and the most fickle bird in the world, who rarely calmed for his own goddamn wife, _actually leaned into it and stayed still. _“Did you have a fun day out there? Because I watch ya skydivin’ sometimes and I think to myself ‘Man I…”

Mick made the mistake of glancing up at Juno. And whatever expression was on Juno’s face made Mick falter and blanche.

* * *

_N, you goddamn sap._

_Hon, can I get something off my chest? I knew you’d been working on a proposal. And I kinda figured out that you were trying that day but then just so many things went wrong every time you tried to say something and you just looked so miserable and I knew I wanted to be there for you forever and…_

_I don’t… I changed my mind. Don’t tell me what happened with Min through here. Either tell me yourself after… all this, or I just won’t know. I want to hear your voice more than I want to know. Stay safe, okay? One more week till I can watch your back myself._

_Also what the fuck do you think Micholas is a real name?? Babe, his name is Bartholomew Mercury._

* * *

“Soooo,” Rita sang, “what do you two write each other about?”

Rita had done a miraculous job, refraining from asking for all this time. She figured she deserved a reward, and she decided that reward would be asking.

Peter looked up, closing the journal, dislodging her hands from the crown braid she was making out of his hair.

(The wolf was howling somewhere very close by. Mick had a very large stick and was off trying to find Juno to play with him. Sasha was very determinedly trying to talk him out of it.)

So Peter sighed. “Lot’s of things.”

“Do you write each other romantic things?” she asked, with a face somewhere between impish grin and dreamily distant. “’I dream of holding you in my arms again’, like the stuff out of ballads?”

He leaned into her hands. His finger traced the circle of his wedding ring, hidden in the cover of their journal. “That got dreadfully dull after a while. We write about small things. Jokes, things we did during our time, things the other did as the beasts that were noteworthy. How wrong someone is about the name of our dear Ruby.”

“Oh that’s... not as exciting.”

He sat up straight as a blade and turned to face her properly, glare at her sharply. “Do you know what I would give to say those boring words to his face? To hear his dumb jokes aloud and watch him light up when he thinks he’s been especially clever? Do you know what it is like to hate something as mundane as the _sunrise_ because it just takes me away from him again and again until I want to tear my own hair out and scream?”

He stared at her, waiting for her reaction, but he clearly wasn’t ready for it because he stiffened when she threw herself at him and dragged him into a hug. It was a bit of a violent impact, since she had been seated above him on a log to reach his hair, but they each recovered admirably.

“You make it very hard to stay mad at you,” Peter mumbled into the top of her head. He returned her hug.

“Now you just sound like Mista Steel,” she said back, and he laughed a little.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Rita.”

She gave him a tight squeeze. “He says the same kinds of things about you, ya know. All the different kinds of smiles you have, how you give each one to each alias, but they all start off as yours, apparently. And he misses all of them.”

Peter’s breath hitched with a sob. But a happy one. An utterly in love despite it all, kind of one.

(That was when Mick ran screaming up a tree. The wolf came charging after, running circles round its base, and snarling and dodging Sasha’s attempts to tackle him.

Peter sighed and went to save them.)

* * *

The page had been warped by water drops since Juno had last seen it. Tears?

_For you my love, anything. Besides, I have Mick now, we could not be in more capable hands._

_The above was sarcasm. He in fact dropped your sword and nearly took off his own foot. We no longer need his expertise, but when I ask you to watch him, I now mean it for his own safety._

_(Also I understand that you are petulant over this Small Fry vs. Ruby debacle, but convincing everyone to insist Mick is short for Bartholomew? Your stubbornness knows no bounds. You win this round.)_

* * *

“You aren’t touching his knives.”

“So you’ll what,” Sasha snapped. “Take on everyone and everything single handedly?”

“Guys—”

“That’s not what I said!” Juno growled back. “Peter and I _both_ need to face Cecil during the eclipse, so he’ll be there anyway—”

“That’s not going to work!”

“You’re the one who _said the stupid eclipse was the only way to break the curse—”_

_“Yeah but you can’t—”_

_“Like hell I—”_

_“Guys!” _Mick and Rita used the spray bottles this time. It worked, as it always did. They’d long tired of snapping at him and resorted to sulking like, well, like cats who’d gotten themselves wet. Mick sighed. “Okay I think Sasha started yelling that time, so Juno gets to ask first.”

Sasha opened her mouth to argue, but Rita pointed a look at her and she thought better of it.

Juno huffed. “What do you mean, the eclipse won’t work?”

“It only lasts eight minutes,” Sasha said, deflating. “If you spend that whole time fighting your way through the entire castle just to reach the Bishop, it’ll be over by the time you get there.” She stopped to brush her wet hair out of her eyes, and looked at Juno with all the calm determination that landed her in her… super secret… whatever job the church had her for. “If you want to complete the terms of the curse, then we need to use this window carefully. Or we could go back to trying to get the Codex from His Excellency and resign ourselves to spending the next five years trying to decode someone else’s demonic bargain and then the ten after that trying to unweave it.”

“I knew that,” Juno snapped petulantly. Another pointed look from Rita made him sigh. “Ok I do, really. But you aren’t using Peter’s knives!”

The hawk chose that moment to caw. Juno pointed at him. “See? He says no.”

“And you expect what, me to take on all the humans and you the monsters?”

“I don’t know, okay!” Juno threw up his hands. “But they’re his! And he – I – I know him, okay? I know he would say yes because he’d make himself do it, but he’d hate it, and I know his reasons, probably better than he would. And he also shouldn’t have to share those reasons. So I, here I am, putting my foot down. No.” He crossed his arms and very deliberately put his foot down in the dirt. Then added, “You can use my bow.”

Sasha gave him a flat look. “I can’t make the shots you can.”

“Oh. Well uh… thanks?”

“And you have no depth perception.”

“Wow! _Thanks_,” he snapped, all sarcasm but no real heat.

“Knife fighting and hand to hand are the worst things you could do! You’re trying to suggest you’ll use your husband’s weapons instead? It’d be faster if I just stab you now.”

“Rude.”

“I’m quoting you!” she shouted with a laugh. “After I bought you a knife for your birthday.”

“Oh,” he said, a little red faced. But he rallied valiantly and snapped “Oh great! So you’re stealing my jokes now too?” and Sasha dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

Without a proper response to be indignant about, Juno deflated slightly. “Well maybe I could manage it, you don’t know,” he mumbled. But he sounded resigned already.

The four of them sat there silently, mulling over the problem. Except for the hawk, who chirped and nuzzled at Mick, trying to charm more food out of him. (It was working.)

Until Rita shouted “Oh! Mistah Steel! Why don’t you use your magic sword! It’s extra long, would that work?”

Juno flinched. Mick and Sasha both stared at Rita, then each other, then him.

“Magic sword?”

“Your blade is magical?”

“_Rita!”_

“That wasn’t Pete’s sword? Jay-jay why do you have a sword?”

“Wait—"

“How come you never told us?”

“Does she mean…?”

“No! She didn’t mean anything!”

Sasha’s eyes bulged and her jaw dropped. “THE NOMADS FANG?! YOU HAVE IT??”

Juno put his face in his hands and groaned.

“Sorry boss,” Rita said.

“Why does that sound familiar…” Mick asked. And then he did a triple take. “Wait, Andromeda’s sword? Andromeda the legendary hero and her magic sword? Andromeda your great, great, great—”

“No Mick, Andromeda my neighbour’s three headed—"

“You said you didn’t have any of her stuff?” Mick interrupted, eyeing Juno suspiciously.

“You want it? It’s yours.”

But Rita had dragged the sword from Small Fry’s saddle and dropped it between them all. They ignored his sarcasm in favour of admiring the simple, tarnished pommel and silver blade of his ancestor’s sword. The same blade Mick had been playing with the previous night and Sasha had completely ignored in favour of admonishing him for nearly hurting himself.

“This sword is so cool Jay! Why d'you never use it?”

“I do use it. It's a great for cracking walnuts.”

Sasha made a strangled noise. “Andromeda's great sword is a priceless—"

“Piece of _junk_ and I prefer my bow.”

“Wait does that mean you have like, a magic castle full of treasure and stuffed dragon heads and—"

“She was a wandering soldier _Mick_, not a king. All I’ve got is an old as shit sword I can’t get rid of and a legacy no one with any sense gives a damn about. All I _want_ is to see my husband for more than half a second at a time so if we could just _please_ get back to _planning_!”

His three friends glanced at each other.

“Why can’t you get rid of the sword Jay?”

“It’s enchanted to always return to his side,” Rita said with a devilish grin.

“_WHAT?”_

* * *

_Peter, hon, I’m… scared. I’m scared to hell and back that we won’t get in, or we’ll get got on our way out or it won’t work and goddamnit I’m even scared that it _will_ work even though I want it more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. I think I need to… see you. Which is dumb as hell because if I could see you we wouldn’t need this shit. But then Mick had an idea. Leave it to the king of the freeway. It’ll only work at sunrise. So it’ll be up to you, if you want to try it or not and it’s okay if you if you don’t but I well it I’m okay with it. With trying it. If you are._

_I love you._

* * *

“Ya know,” Mick panted from the hole in the snow, “This would go a lot faster if you _helped!”_

“Oh no, no he can’t do that,” Sasha teased. “He might get dirt in his mascara.” Mick shoved her. She elbowed him right back.

Peter and Rita continued to ignore the pair.

“I still don’t see him Mistah Steel-Rose,” Rita whispered. She swept her spyglass in a full circle of the horizon around the frozen lake valley.

Peter put his fingers to his mouth and whistled again. “Juno Steel of all the times to be a stubborn, boar headed…” He trailed off and Rita patted his arm comfortingly.

Mick stopped digging to crack his back and lean against his shovel. “What if we just take a little break and try this again tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, when we’ll have to spend all day and night sneaking into a castle so we can be there in time for the eclipse in the following afternoon?”

Mick clicked his tongue. “Well when you put it like that –”

The howl of a wolf cut him off.

Rita squealed and pointed across the lake. “There he is! One eye and all scruffy – that’s my best friend!”

The wolf started towards them, a far away smudge growing closer at a steady trot. Mick and Sasha climbed out of the hole and started touching up the pile of snow and branches that would block the sun from the edge of the pit when it came up in a few hours. Peter moved to the edge of the ice, waiting.

“Perhaps this was a dumb idea,” he whispered, more to himself really. “It… Well it feels like bad luck. Like too much of a goodbye. Mick is right, really we shouldn’t rush—”

Rita took his hand and gave it a hard squeeze. “No it ain’t. That’s the wrong trope Mistah Thievin’—Steel. This is the night before the big battle, when you take the dame you love in your arms and remind yourself what you’ve got to live for.”

Peter frowned, though it looked more petulant. More like a pout. But he held onto her regardless.

And then the ice cracked.

Rita gasped. The wolf yelped. He took a few more steps forwards and there was a bigger crashing noise and Juno’s back half plunged down.

Peter took off running.

“Dammit don’t—” Sasha yelled, but he was already gone. She tried to grab Mick but he took off too, ducking out of her reach and throwing himself bodily at the lake.

Peter was the first to his husband’s side, dropping to his knees and crawling as far as he could. The wolf was frantic, howling, clawing at the edge of the ice and sloshing water that stung like knives everywhere, but not getting enough traction to get himself out. He was struggling too much, too heavy too dynamic for Peter to get him out but he could hold the wolf’s scruff, loop an arm around his front legs in the killer water and keep his husband’s head above it.

That’s when Mick, the brave, foolish idiot with a heart the size of a moon came slip sliding up to them. Only he had the idea to sidle around and jump into the water himself. The second the cold bit into him he knew he’d made a mistake. But, true to himself to the last, the only way out was through, as he used to say. (Sasha would lecture him, or Juno would come up with a different plan. Usually both.) With one hand on the edge of the ice, he held his breath and ducked under Juno and tried to heft the wolf out of the water.

Only, the ice was impossible to grip. It was too thick, too smooth and his fingers hurt worse than he’d ever felt before. And the wolf’s flailing was making it hard too and its claws were digging into his back. He breached for air but swallowed equal parts icy water and was still pummeled all the while. And then a strong hand gripped his arm, and a rope was pressed to his hand and together they heaved. The wolf made it out, crawling along the ice, shivering and shaking water from his fur and putting as much distance between himself and the water as he could. Peter grabbed for Mick next. Sasha kept her grip on his arm and her weight against the Nomad’s Fang, buried in the ice and snow to anchor the rope tied to it. Mick slithered out of the water, shivering and limp and more than a little bloody. Still clutching at the rope. Peter sobbed, trying to hug both prone figures to himself.

“You’re okay,” Sasha panted, pulling off her cloak and draping it over her friend. “You’re okay – we’re all o – Rita! Start a fire!”

* * *

The sun was rising.

The dawn saw Mick and Sasha and Rita and Ruby, huddled together under every scrap of cloth they had, in a pile around a dead fire, on the west side of a wide, shallow hole. The ridge of snow they’d piled around them sheltered them from the wind, at the very least. Sunlight kissed them good morning. But the shadows were still long. And tucked against the eastern ridge, under the deepest part of the shadow lay Peter, curled against his wolf.

Sunrise inched on. Shadows grew shorter. Fur glinted red and gold and melted into skin. The wolf shifted, groaned and rolled and it nudged Peter awake. He gasped, sinking closer to the wall, deeper into shadow, tugging Juno’s cloak tighter over his head. And watched as _Juno Steel woke up._

Well, to a degree. He groaned sleepily and rubbed at his eye. Rolling over and reaching beside him for someone who, in a moment, he’d remember was never there anymore.

Only, this time he was.

He froze, eye still closed, fingers flexing against the arm he’d grabbed. He was afraid to look, to see if it was just another dream.

“Juno,” Peter breathed, grasping the hand, “love, l-look at me.”

Juno did.

His breath hitched. “Nureyev,” he mouthed. Peter broke.

Juno dragged himself forward, into the shadow and then his hands were on Peter’s face, warm and soft and perfect and so achingly familiar. They held him, wiped away the tears and all Peter could see was Juno, his real, wonderful Juno.

“Hi,” Juno said, voice heavy. He smiled, bewildered and so desperately sad and Peter clutched at his fingers, kissed his palm. There was sunlight in his hair and Peter’s heart crumpled in his chest. He knew they were out of time. In a way this tantalizing, too brief embrace was almost worse than the entire year apart had been.

“I love you, Juno, you beautiful fool,” Peter said with all his heart, holding onto the feel of Juno, his gaze and weight and heat against him again.

Juno pressed over Peter like he could block out the light, stretch the moment out longer. But nothing could ever be long enough. “That makes two of us,” he whispered against Peter’s skin. And then the sunlight enveloped Peter, and his human form burned away in Juno’s hands.

The hawk escaped Juno’s arms and took off into the sky.

The lady collapsed, fingers tangled in the still-warm cloak. And cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll just apologize now. but! i finally put a chapter count up. just the finale and an epilogue left. now i just... gotta... write them...
> 
> cw for this chapter is falling through ice on a frozen lake. one keeps his head above water the other goes under for a few minutes


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